


Regression

by White_Rabbits_Clock



Series: Come On And Make Me [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alpha Natasha Romanov, Alpha Steve, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bad Team Dynamics, Beta Pietro Maximoff, Gen, M/M, Omega Bruce Banner, Omega Clint Barton, Omega Tony Stark, Omega Verse, Omega Wanda Maximoff, Semi Cannon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-04-14 05:19:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14128947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/White_Rabbits_Clock/pseuds/White_Rabbits_Clock
Summary: Things were almost good, and then SHIELD fell. After a mission in Johannesburg, South Africa goes very badly, Tony and Bruce struggle to find a way to compensate for a lack of SHIELD and a lack of people who can challenge the Hulk, when ULTRON happens. Now Tony is by himself, stuck trying to fix things while keeping his status as Omega Prime under wraps. Between the hate of Wanda Maximoff and the regressing team dynamics, things are set up to go down in flames. It'll be a miracle if he gets out of this alive.Part three of Come On and Make Me. This is a completed Work





	1. 8

Tony keeps one of the lowest profiles ever to watch Barton and Laura get married. He doesn’t go clean shaven, because ew, but he does let the full thing grow in and flies in regular clothing and not a suit (that’s uncomfortable to do anyways). He sits in the back and takes a temporary scent blocker. At the end of the day, no one but the bride and groom and Natasha Romanov are aware that he was ever there. 

Clint thanks him. Natasha nods at him. She seems to have accepted that her actions were a little (read: very much) more insensitive than she had considered they’d be at the time. The two Avengers travel back home together, the worry that usually eats away at Tony under his skin now more than ever.

“Stark.”

“Yeah?”

“Look at me.” He does, brown eyes meeting green ones from behind a pair of red-tinted glasses.

“Are you okay?”

“Always.” They leave it at that.

 

…

 

“Brucie-bear!” Tony calls out. It’s been a few months, and those kids Clint’s kept hidden have their own little house somewhere in bumfuck nowhere, zip code kill me are so adorable. It’s lonely at the Tower now. Steve keeps going in and out looking for Bucky Barnes, who is alive and unaccounted for (would you have called me for him, Steve?). When he’s not doing that, there are these fights they have that start over stupid shit (all that brain an you couldn’t have found a better way to get him out of the city than by antagonizing him?) and end up at the argument of whether or not Steve was right to bring down SHIELD. The bad ones end in fist fights. 

Natasha seems to be trying to figure out whether or not they’re going to get kicked out of the tower. Tony won’t, because the stipulation for staying was helping with the salvaging, but she’s still wondering if Tony’s the sort of omega to go back on his problems.

“Hey, Tones. You look disturbingly happy to see me.”

“Am I not allowed to be happy to see you?” he asks, all smiles as he wraps his arms around his favorite messy-haired scientist. Bruce hugs him back and presses one brief, soft kiss to his cheek.

“You are, but when you’re this happy it means something is going wrong in your personal life, and you’re trying really hard not to let me see it.”

“Nonsense! And blasphemy! Come on, I have a project I want to show you.” They swing by the kitchen for tea and coffee, then down to the lab where Tony opens project file: ULTRON and looks to Bruce.

The code itself is huge, and Bruce thinks he can see what Tony means when he says a string of numbers is beautiful. He remembers the first time he’d heard that. The two had been relaxed in Tony’s living room, and the engineer had been sitting straight up, hands animating the story of Jarvis’ birth, how one line of code had turned into several hundreds. How he’d written rewritten and rewritten again until he had solved the ultimate issue with an AI: learning. He’d said, right before he spoke to Jarvis for the first time via a chat box, that he’d seen his baby, and his baby was beautiful.

“Is this another Jarvis?”

“Yeah. Ish. This one will be geared towards combat. It will run the Iron Legion and some other things I intend to make dozens of and use in the field. The end goal is for Ultron to have a body, and to work in tangent with JARVIS. Its… it’s not SHIELD; not really, but it’s a start.”

“Yeah, it is.” SHIELD might have been a vaguely nefarious, partially corrupted, fairly large pain in the ass, but they had their bases covered. With them gone, those bases are now wide open and raw. Just then, the alarm goes off. Clint is actually back in town for a couple of days, and with a quick call to Laura for permission (not because Clint is an omega, but because he’s semi retired and is really supposed to only be helping with the Hydra Cleanup and they already had an agreement, he joins them.

South Africa is a fucking disaster. And every now and then Tony looks at some and sees them how he saw them in that vision: dead and looking at him because he didn’t do enough. It’s official. ULTRON needs to be online yesterday. 

He and Bruce fought (fought!), and now they’re sitting side by side in the back of the quinjet, headed home. Tony keeps an arm wrapped around him. For once, he wishes he wasn’t taking something to keep his Prime-ness under wraps and undetectable. Bruce looks so haunted.

“I don’t know what that was, Tony,” Bruce says, face haggard and drawn where it was only mildly tired before. Tony makes him sit at the kitchen table on Tony’s private floor while he brews tea and makes food (he can cook, but only at knife point).

“Look Bruce, I saw something strange too, okay? I don’t think it was just you. I just think your vision had the greatest effect.”

“What if next time it doesn’t work? People are dead today because of me. They’re dead because I lost control. What if next time you’re not right there. What if next time Veronica’s offline? Or you’re sleep deprived? Or in the hospital? You can’t b the only thing standing between everyone’s life and death.” Tony shakes his head and kneels.

“I have and idea,” Tony says as he wraps his hand around Bruce’s and gently kisses his knuckles. Bruce is not the only one worried about not being enough. 

 

…

 

“And look what I found at the hydra base?” Tony says as he pulls Bruce to another part of the lab that generally keeps volatile things stored. He opens up a case and shows him Loki’s staff.

“We should definitely burn that with fire.”

“But there’s an AI inside it! It’s like… organic, but not.” Bruce looks at Tony and at one of the cameras. Tony has always had a thing for AIs.

“Maybe the AI can be freed.” In the background, DUM-E, U, and BUTTERFINGERS are beeping, and Bruce realizes they were waiting for his approval, alongside JARVIS and Tony himself.

“Yes! Science-Bros time!”

“You sound like the intro to a cartoon.”

“I try!”

 

...

 

Thor left after his own strange dream, but arrives back before things go to shit, but only just barely. Tony’s latest experiment on the staff was a failed one, and while project: ULTRON was nearly done, it wasn’t quite there yet. There was something getting stuck in the code. As happy as he was to have Bruce there, he can’t stop the dejection he feel concerning both of the AIs currently in his hands. 

So when there’s the prospect of a party, well, what sort of Tony Stark would he be if he didn’t beat a well timed retreat? Get drunk. Screw Bruce. Go back to work. The Staff would leave in the morning, yes, but he might be able to get it back again later. In the meantime, there’s never been a kink in the code he couldn’t figure out with enough time. 

He would have fun tonight. Try to put project: ULTRON and project: SCEPTER out of his mind for a few hours. Then, in the morning, he would try it again. Besides, Thor is back, and strained team dynamics or no, his insistence on leaving “woes” behind does the trick. 

It’s all happy there, for  while, and Tony is a little happier in the soft glow of alcohol and Bruce’s scent getting a little stronger as he relaxes beside him.  

Then it all goes to shit and Jarvis is GONE GONE GONE and Tony can’t breathe anymore but maybe it’s because he’s trying to follow JARVIS down. Maybe it’s because he was never really breathing in the first place. Not since he got the arc reactor removed and it still wasn’t enough to keep Pepper.

“It failed!” he finally gets out, as they’re all standing in the lab, looking at JARVIS’ broken code. “They both failed. We couldn’t access the AI in the scepter and I couldn’t figure out what code I needed to make ULTRON functional and I thought: maybe what it needs is something a little more organic but that failed, too! We weren’t anywhere close to an interface!” he yells into a room that’s too full with other people’s assumptions.

“Well if you hadn’t been playing with things you don’t understand,” Steve says, starting to wind way, way up, “then we wouldn’t be here!” 

“Do you not get it? Remember, bg portal? I saw what was on the other side of it. That army was massive and it’s coming our way. We need something to help us out because we don’t have SHIELD anymore. We don’t have their resources to tap and we don’t have their scientists to work on baby projects and ideas I don’t have time for!

“Maybe we should calm down” Bruce says, coming to stand beside him. Ostensibly, anyways. In reality, his touch is holding Tony up. The inventor hates it. Hates it so bad because he is the Omega Prime of New York, and he is meant to be the strongest, but he cannot even explain this to his team. Jarvis would be able to speak just fine.

“Bruce! You saw it too. We didn’t have a solution!” Bruce holds his hands up in a maybe way, but there was no maybe about it.

“So you’re just going to roll over?” Tony gets out, and he knows he should attack Bruce. Knows the man’s had enough, but he can’t stop himself, “show your belly?”

“We just created a murder-bot,” Bruce reminds him, and that hurts. 

“I don’t know what happened. The experiment failed. Nothing changed. I don’t know why ULTRON is alive because he wasn’t finished and he sure as hell wasn’t programmed like this.” Tony knows that if he could just focus, he could probably figure it out, but he can’t focus, because JARVIS is dead and it’s all Tony’s fault and-

“Stark! Stay with me.” Steve says, and it’s all Tony can do to not collapse because JARVIS is gone but if he loses his shit now there will be no one to clean up the mess and someone’s saying something about rage, and Tony’s hears that it’s going around. Then, he notices Thor is in here, and Tony is dangling by his neck, and he sees Rhodey start to move and Thor is saying something and then Steve is saying something else and they need him to think about the problem, not the blame.

“Okay… okay, I think I can figure out where to head him off.”

“How do you know that?”

“I was programming ULTRON with the knowledge that I would one day give him a body. If he’s anything like what I wrote, then he’ll be looking to make the strongest, most invincible body he can.” and now he’s given them a start and he still can’t breathe but he’s not passing out so it must be okay. It has to be okay. 

He will make it okay.


	2. Vibranium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony Stark barely remembers the time in between Ultron's first escape and the creation of Vision.

It’s not going to stop. It never fucking stops.

The next time he’s aware enough to think clearly, they’re at Barton’s farmhouse with the two little kids he’s been hiding along with Laura and their third, unborn baby. Tony’s making cracks about not knowing just to throw Steve off because the last thing he needs is another lecture about keeping secrets. He can’t do anymore lectures on keeping secrets. 

While he’s pretending not to know who Laura is (she’d been among those who chose to leave SHIELD behind when it fell), Steve is trying to figure out what they should do now and Tony’s so lost because JARVIS is gone. He says something about not keeping secrets. Tony wonders if he jacks off to hypocrisy. 

He hears something about a car and an issue so he wanders out to the garage.

“Hey Nikki.”

“I always hated when you called me that.” Nick says. He doesn’t look anything like the man who ran SHIELD for years.

“Cleaned up that mess Rogers made. Not everything’s dead,” Tony says as he pops the hood of a rusty piece of shit from ‘98 and starts looking around inside.

“I know. I wanted to apologize about that.”

“Why?”

“I overestimated Rogers. Thought he’d call you.”

“You know what, Nikki? People have a bad habit of calling me to clean up messes, not prevent them.” He looks around and finds a used-to-be-white t-shirt with about eighteen holes in it.

“That so?”

“Yeah. ‘Cept for Obie, but we all know how that ended.”

“Yeah, I guess we do.” Tony pulls out the ancient dipstick and wipes it off.

“But what’s past is past. I’ve done everything there is to do. Took me three months, but I got it done, along with Roger and Romanov and Bruce and Clint to a certain extent. We’re still shuffling around a few of the higher-profile agents, but other than that, we’re done.”

“Thank you. I thought I was putting SHIELD in better hands,” Nick says, and it’s as much of an admission as Tony’ll ever get. The inventor shoves the dipstick back down and pulls it out.

“Oil’s too low. And dirty as fuck” He says, putting it back and looking around to see if there’s some sitting around.

“What are you going to do now?”

“Dunno. Jarvis is gone. There’s a fucking witch out there who can unleash the Hulk at any moment. The world wants our heads for Johannesburg. Rightfully so, I might add.”

“You can’t fix anything by hiding.”

“You don’t say.” And Tony can’t bring himself to keep looking for the oil. He sinks down next to Nick and stares off into space. Jarvis is gone. Carefully, mindful of Tony’s touchiness when it comes to alphas, he lays an arm across Tony’s bent back.

“I know, more than most, how appealing running away is. Hell, I did it. With the intention of coming back, of course, but I still did it. But I don’t think that’s the best thing right now.”

“Who the hell are you to tell me about the best thing? I just lost the AI that was with me before I ever went off my scent blockers, and you want to talk to me about what’s best. Steve is walking around half cocked like he’s so much better than me because this is my fault and you know what? He’s right. You know why people don’t call me to prevent problems? Because this shit happens when I do.” Nick doesn’t say anything, just tugs Tony until he’s collapsed into Nick’s side.

“I’m just an old man who loves you very much.” They don’t say anything for a while, just sit looking at that fucked up truck that’s dangerously low on oil.

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, Nikki,” Tony says, and it’s barely a whisper, like he doesn’t have the strength to do anything but disappear.

“You don’t ever know what you’re doing. Not when I tried to strongarm you into working with and for SHIELD by offering a cure. Not when I tossed you into the ring with the most self assured man I have ever met. Not when you were betrayed by your father’s best friend and your father before that. Not when any of that happened.” Fury tugs Tony a little closer, and Tony goes, too weak with grief and with hopelessness to do anything but.

“But your best has always been when things were beyond impossible.”

“Then I hate my best,” Tony says, and turns his head to hide his eyes in Nick’s neck.

“I know, and I sometimes wish you were just a normal genius, but that doesn’t change the fact that this is looking more and more like your final element.”

“Someone’s going to lose and lose badly.”

“Someone always loses.” Tony rests a hand on his chest and imagines the feel of the arc reactor, remembers how the blue light had shined against his fingers for so many nights. How it was sometime the only thing that told him he was still alive.

“Yeah,” he says, standing up, “someone always does.” he can feel an idea forming in his mind. Maybe project: ULTRON got its evilness from the staff. The whole time, Tony had assumed that whatever had been keeping Loki controlled was far away. If the staff itself is evil, then it would make a lot of sense. They already knew there was an AI in there.

He doesn’t notice Nick’s sad smile as he watches him walk off. Tony Stark is Not Okay. Not by a long shot, but now his mind’s turning, and he’ll be able to hold off the grief for at least a little while, now.

 

…

 

Seoul goes to shit, but it’s the kind of shit that usually happens, and Tony Stark is right there in the middle it, balancing them on the knife's edge of losing and winning. Ultron does not get the body, and he loses the staff and his two helpers, but he captures the Widow, which sucks. Tony can feel Steve blaming him even though he stays quiet., but he knows the anger is building. Would crash down on him the moment there was a chance to. On the upside, they gain two temporary allies.

He doesn’t trust Wanda Maximoff. Not with that Vision still fresh on his mind, and she doesn’t trust him either, not with her parents death immortalized in her’s. Still, though, it’s not like they have much of a choice. Besides, it’s a temporary truce, not a set-in-stone permanent position on the roster.

Besides, Tony has his own idea for an addition to their ranks. Later, after they make sure Doctor Cho will be safe until it’s over, Tony is almost collapsing in on himself with relief. JARVIS is not dead. Not even close! He’s okay, and alive, and Tony knows that he should have used JARVIS to make ULTRON. 

JARVIS, with his decades of experience caring for the most self destructive of people without overriding that person’s will. JARVIS, who knows all too well the paradox of being able to help but also being able to do nothing. JARVIS, who would have come out on top, had it been him vs. the mind stone, instead of his near-fully formed baby program. These thoughts are in Tony’s head when he uploads Jarvis into the synthetic body. These thoughts do not come out when he tries to explain himself to the team.

“We need someone who can meet ULTRON on his level,” he tells Steve. He hates that he’s having this showdown in front of the other Avengers, and especially hates that Wanda and Pietro Maximoff are there too. The girl is leaking pheromones everywhere she goes, convincing people she’s younger, less willfully bad and more unfortunately manipulated. She never says a word, but she wins the sympathy of Steve Rogers and Clint Barton, and Tony Stark hates that.

“I’ve had enough of these damn secrets of yours, Stark-”

“Yeah, well, I’m not the only one with secrets, Steve.” and he’s talking fast now. Tony Stark is talking too fast, just trying to salvage their- his- last ditch attempt, but no one’s listening anymore, and isn’t that what usually always happens when they call him in for damage control?

The next time they see Thor, he doesn’t try to choke Tony. In fact, he brings to life the Vision. It hurts Tony so bad to see him there, all red-skinned and calm-voiced, and utterly, utterly JARVIS-like that it brings all the grief up to the surface again and it’s all Tony can do to choke it down.

The Vision is not ULTRON. He’s not ULTRON at all. He’s everything ULTRON was meant to be and more, because Tony knows that, even though he’s looking at an android with an AI in his brain and an AI in his forehead, he is also looking at a brand new human being. He offers his hand.

“Tony Stark, Iron man.” The Vision takes it without remark or judgement. Steve failed that test a long time ago. Tony turns, a bit of his bravado returning, now that the Vision lives. “From left to right is Clint Barton, or Hawkeye, Wanda Maximoff, or the Scarlet Witch, Thor Odinson, or just Thor really, God of Thunder, and Steve Rogers, or Captain America, and James Rhodes, or War Machine.” the android, with a gaze that somehow reminds Tony of a thousand mock glares up at the cameras in the corners of a hundred different rooms, doesn’t say anything at first. And then:

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so that's up. I want to apologize, guys. i've got some serious writer's block, and it's made it hard to do just about anything with any fanfiction. The good news is I have written through that god-awful chapter, and it's not even half bad! So we'll see about getting back to regular scheduling soon. In the meantime I've missed an update (again) so look for this work on the 14th, and again on it's regular Wednesday update day. 
> 
> As always, I live on comments and caffeine, and I forgot to drink coffee this morning.


	3. Ultron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything from Sokovia to two months after it is still a blur to Tony.

Tony’s got to hand it to Steve- the man knows how to behave in a crisis. It’s all robot parts and the squeal of rending metal and malfunctioning servos. The battle, like a lot of things these days, is a blur to Tony, but all the civilians live, which is amazing, given the circumstances. Rhodey is somewhere. It’s getting hard to keep track. He hears something over the comms about someone leaving their post, but that’s all he can recall. 

In the end Pietro Maximoff is dead, the beta’s scent getting flatter than anyone on the pill. He thinks he smells something a bit more wild on Wanda now. He knows she’s grieving. He can’t bring himself to put an arm around her.

That’s all Tony can remember. The rest he knows only by going back and watching the cameras and sensors on the suit.

When he’s all alone, with no distractions, he types up as detailed a report as he can, and he gets everyone’s versions. They hate him now, he knows. Hawkeye has gone back to Laura. Steve is watching him, getting ready to chew him out. The Vision is just existing, an island, and Tony is trying to bring himself to show the Vision what it is he’s now involved in, but it hurts so much that he doesn’t dare do so for very long. Bruce is in the wind. 

Natasha looks so wounded over it that Tony almost says something. Something comforting. Something about how he feels the same way. Offer something like solidarity. But he doesn’t, because he knew in the back of his mind that Bruce was never his to keep. No matter how much he had loved the way he felt when Jolly Green came out and all it took to ease him through his heat was extensive cuddling and napping, Bruce is just too flighty to expect him to stay forever. Tony had seen it coming from a mile away.

He gets that report written, typed up, collaborated and confirmed, but there’s no one to give it to. No one to submit it to. No one to answer to. Even with the remains of SHIELD still on-site in Sokovia, directing SI relief workers and Tony himself, there is no one to give it to, because the Avengers are separate from SHIELD; have been for a few years, now. In the end, he just saves it with all the other things he’ll never do anything with. Just like the rest of the reports he’s written up and saved in his systems.

It takes a couple months to get the most dangerous parts of Sokovia stabilized, and Tony helps the relief workers with this by controlling the Iron Legion, FRIDAY working in Jarvis’ place. He hates it. He’s grateful she exists at all. Somewhere in that mix, Johannesburg gets taken care of, too.

It takes about two and a half months for Tony Stark to arrive back at the Avengers Tower, Vision behind his left shoulder., Rhodey departed for the air force (again). They are the only ones who don’t feel inclined to get far the fuck away from Tony Stark.

Tony stands in the elevator, dread growing in his breast with each passing floor. 

“Mr. Stark, it is okay,” Vision says. That quiet, peaceful conviction makes Tony smile a bit. He’s so like Jarvis and he doesn’t even know it.

The doors slide open, and by the time they do, Tony’s face is schooled into a smooth, unflappable mask. Widow is in the livingroom. She gives him this look, like he’s the one that chased Bruce off. Like it’s all Tony’s fault. He doesn’t challenge that look, because Tasha’s right. He opens the fridge to check the creamer (there’s plenty) before he makes coffee.

He’s halfway through his first cup, and he’s got 208 new emails in the last ten minutes, and Steve Rogers has just entered the room. He’s too tired to be anxious about what Steve is going to say. 

What does wake him up out of his fog, though, is Wanda Maximoff, smelling as raw and wild as she did before, and sticking as close to Steve as she can. Her glare is poisonous. The cloud of anxiety filled exhaustion does not shift at her presence. Steve is looking between Tony and Wanda, and Tony wishes the gears weren’t turning in his head.

Tony drinks three cups of coffee before he turns and heads down to the lab. He sits in his favorite spinny chair, his bots beeping worriedly at him, and pulls opens Project: RELIEF. With 90% of the Iron Legion back in dormant mode or destroyed, there’s not much to check up, but there is some. He reviews where SI relief is at and what they’re doing and goes on to check his emails, sifting through the important shit and the regular shit for an hour or two before:

“Boss, Captain America is asking for access to the lab.”

“Tell him to meet me in the penthouse.”

“Captain America seems insistent he speak to you in the lab.”

“Well he knows he doesn’t have access down here.”

“I believe that he may have issue with that.”

“Whatever. It’s penthouse or no where.” there’s a few moments of silence as Tony waits to see what Cap will do, and then:

“Captain America is heading towards your regular meeting place.”

“Thanks, J,” Tony says. He gets up and steps over to the service elevator that he uses to haul heavy machinery. If he rises like an old man and shuffles like one damned, well, there’s no one but Jarvis here to see it. By the time the doors open, he’s standing as straight and as regally as any man born performing.

The “meeting place” Jarvis (FRIDAY. It’s FRIDAY, now) had talked about earlier is a small office that had originally meant to be used as a work-from-home type thing for when Tony couldn’t make it into SI (i.e. when he was about to drop and couldn’t do the extra shit that involved stepping out of his house). But as Tony delegated more things to Pepper and spent more time with the Avengers, the home office mainly gets its use as a room for private conversation between himself and the captain. He and Steve have a lot of fights, some months. Others, the space gets hardly any use at all.

Tony appears in the already open doorway in dark jeans, convers and three different shirts. More than a year removed from the surgery that cost him the arc reactor, and he’s still layering like he’s got something to hide.

“Hey, Steve,” Tony says, taking up his own position behind his desk. Steve is already in his chair. 


	4. Battle Royale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve digs his heels in. So does Tony.

“Tony. Listen, we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

“How much is a lot?” Cap holds up a list.

“I hate lists. Pep always had a list.”

“She also had good reason for it.” and if that doesn’t sound mildly chastising Tony will eat the original arc reactor.

“Let’s get started then.”

“We need more transparency. We’re making too many mistakes,” Steve begins. He goes straight for the throat, apparently.

“Transparency.” Tony says, like he doesn’t get it, but he thinks he does. He thinks it’s loud and clear in the way Steve had gone down to the workshop to talk to him. He had been insistent, even though one of the first house rules they established was that private conversations could not be held in any place both parties did not have access to (hence this office). He thinks it’s loud and clear in the way Steve has never, ever been comfortable with the way there were entire areas that he was not allowed to walk through, much less use.

“Yes. We need a way to prevent this all from happening.”

“This all.”

“Ultron.”

“But not Johannesburg.”

“Banner is gone.” If Steve starts to look uncomfortable, he doesn’t show it.

“And we’re going to… what? Go Ross on his ass?”

“No.”

“Okay so what about SHIELD?”

“SHIELD was corrupt.” Ballsy.

“And you were unequipped to deal with it. You can barely google. But you didn’t call. So would transparency cover communication from you to me or is it just from me to you?”

“Maybe not you to me because, as noted before, I don’t know anything about it. I just think that maybe all projects should be approved by people who understand what you’re doing.” Tony cocks an eyebrow.

“Who would fucking watch me like a toddler? News flash: you can’t impose that kind of oversight on someone working for themselves.”

“Maybe it’s time you stop working for yourself.”

“No one’s hiring Tony Stark.”

“The military would. They did.”

“Wrong. They had a weapon contract with Stark Industries years ago, which was allowed to expire in order to allow them time to adjust. They never hired Tony Stark. Furthermore, they would not hire me, they would just take and use the Iron Man suits and just keep me around as their mechanic. You’re legit suggesting I don’t do what I have been doing for all forty three years of my life.”

“The military wouldn’t stop you from inventing.”

“You’re right. They would have me do their shit. ‘Hey, Stark, make me a missile. Oh you don’t make weapons anymore? Shit, I guess you ain’t making shit.’”

“I think you’re being overdramatic.”

“Well what if you could only fight in the way someone who doesn’t understand everything there is to fighting wanted you to? What if you could only use moves that person wanted? What if they had to monitor your exercise, and would only let you do however much they felt you should do?”

“I don’t run around making AI’s that try and kill everyone.”

“What about all the people you attack? What about all the borders we skip across and the average people who just happen to get in the way? Maybe they support something like that.”

“This isn’t about that.”

“I think it kind of is. Why is it that when I fuck up we need more transparency but when you fuck up it was a bit of an oversight?”

“No one said that.”

“Writing’s on the wall, Cap.”

“Well you’re reading the wrong wall. The transparency is supposed to help us all.”

“No, it’s not. You’re just scared of what I can do and now you have a good reason to try and corral me. So what’s your damage, Cap? I haven’t been able to figure it out. What scares you so much about what I can do that you want me to willingly give up my freedom so you can sleep better at night?” Tony asks.

He’s leaning in closer, his scent all bitter and metal, no spice, with something heavier, stronger, more dangerous mixed in. Even numb from the loss of Jarvis, and reeling from the events of three months ago, Tony Stark is still the Omega Prime, pills or no, and trying to corral him is a terrible idea.

It’s also very hard to lie.

“It’s… it’s you.”

“Me.” And it seems like that one little word opens up a damn.

“I guess I’m not as over this as I thought, but everything about this situation is all wrong. You would never been able to have control over an AI in the forties, and this never would have happened. You wouldn’t have so much fucking control all the time, and you wouldn’t be able to run shit into the ground,” he blurts out. Even if he didn’t want to say it, well, it’s sure as hell true.

Tony bolts up out of his seat, and Steve is up with him, the smell of fresh, clean ice getting heavier as his and Tony’s pheromones battle it out. It’s dizzying and terrifying and Tony just wants it to stop _ stop STOP _ but there’s not such luck. 

“You’re right about that, Cap, because in the forties my father discovered an element that he didn’t have the tech to create. The same element that one day saved my life when I was dying from the arc reactor. That arc reactor, by the way, wound up in my fucking chest because I was betrayed my father’s best friend- an alpha- and spent months in a cave- the prisoners of other alphas- pretending to build a missile so I could live long enough to get out. In the forties, I’d be a dead man.” 

They’re chest to chest, now, Tony’s lips pulled back enough from his face to make a snarl, his eyebrows drawn down over sleep deprived eyes. Maybe he’s numb and maybe he’s dying but this? This anger? This straight territorial dispute this shit show has turned into? He can feel this, and it fucking burns.

“Wax poetical about a time when you would never have had to deal with me if you want to, but don’t you fucking dare tell me about how much better it would have been before. Catch a problem all you want to, but without a fucking replacement, you’re up shit creek without a paddle.” If the mood had been different, it would seem like they’re three seconds away from a kiss. Tony’s vision is shaking, he’s so angry about hearing this shit.

“And if I had a replacement?”

“Who’s going to replace me? I’m the only one who does what I do with the skill that I do it with.”

“Maybe, but we need more omegas. The teams gotten weak without Clint and Bruce.”

“Who the hell is going to step in for the fucking Hulk? Never mind the years of training Clint brought to the table.”

“Wanda is powerful. She won’t make up for them both, but she’ll make up for one in terms of numbers.”

“Are you stupid?” and then Tony is backing up, manic energy spiking his heart rate up up up and now he’s a different kind of mad.

“No, I’m not stupid.”

“Really? Because it seems like you are if you think Wanda Maximoff is a good idea.”

“She’s powerful, and has field experience.” Tony gives him a look.

“Okay, but lets look at her employment history, shall we? Hydra: abandoned and went to their enemy. Ultron: abandoned and went to his enemy. Us: left her fucking post. She had one job, Steve: guard the fucking machine. You want to talk about Sokovia? Let’s talk about the fact that your new favorite omega is over emotional and under controlled and hates me. You want to talk about replacements? I can find replacements. I can find you people who could fill this team out and do a better job of it than Wanda will. I can-” Steve cuts him off.

“See, you always talk about what you can do, but when you do it, it always goes to hell.”

“Yeah? That suit of yours hold up during the last fight? Because I remember designing and building that one and the one before that and- surprise!- the one before that. So obviously I can do a few things right. Regardless of what I do, Wanda is a bad idea. She’s twenty years old, under educated, delusional, over powerful, and under trained.”

“Those were your weapons that killed her family.”

“My weapons, which were only officially sold to the military, but were also sold to all and sundry behind my back by an alpha at the company who later payed to have me killed? Yeah. Forgot about that, didn’t you? I can’t tell you who dropped an SI missile on her house. What I can tell you is if it was dropped by someone who was meant to have them, then she really doesn’t need to be on the Avengers team. 

“We are frequently called to deal with threats to national security- american security. Since we only ever sold to the American government and their affiliates, she either has a grudge against the nation or a grudge against someone I never sold to. Either way, she’s got no room to be mad at me,” Tony says.

“Your name was on that missile!” Steve says, and his voice just gets louder, but the argument remains the same.

“And I’ll remember that until the day I die. Unfortunately for the both of you, that’s not the full story. If she’s choosing to focus on that, then working with her will go FUBAR before you can even say FUBAR.”

“Tony, we’re out of options,” Steve tries, and it’s hard for Tony not to just let him do what he wants.

“No we’re not. No, we aren’t putting Wanda on the team. That’s my answer.”

“It’s not up to you to decide. And we can’t afford to not use her.” Stark’s eyes rest on the desk for a moment before he meets Steve’s eyes. When he speaks, it’s quiet like the eye of the storm, and everything in the room stills.

“We can’t afford not to use her because you, once again, are relying on dumb luck instead of consulting people who know what they’re doing because you, once again, have a control issue and if you, once again, choose to just jump the fuck in, then you, for the first time, will not be able to call on me. In fact, I’m making this official. FRIDAY, make sure you record this: 

“I will not be going on missions that Wanda Maximoff goes on. You want to expand our ranks? The Vision and Redwing are more than capable. But Wanda is not, and you won’t be fucking putting my neck out there, because that’s the one that’s going to get broken, no matter the circumstances.” As a final show of power, Stark takes a seat.

“Don’t do this Tony,” Steve says. He sounds like he’s trying to talk Tony down from jumping off a cliff.

“That’s final,” Tony says, and he knows he’s won. Knows that he’s gone head to head with Captain Fucking America and come out on top. He’s the fucking Omega Prime of New York, and he doesn’t bow to some guilt tripping alpha, no matter the circumstances.

He knows, somewhere in the back of his mind, that’s he’s won but he also lost. They’re going to be here, in his tower, disturbing him. Demanding things from him. 

“FRIDAY. Dial Big Black Dick.” the line picks up on the third ring.

“Marcus Maize.” Tony has never been so happy to hear Nick Fury’s voice.

“I want them out.”

“Out of where?”

“Out of the Tower.”

“What’s going on, Tony?”

“Steve is putting Wanda Maximoff on the team.”

“...why?”

“He wants a replacement omega for me. I’m… I guess I’m too much. Not enough. Something like that.”

“I… alright, Tony. Give me a sec. Let me see what I can do.”


	5. Interim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony tries to make sure Vision is okay amidst all the other pressing things.

Tony’s sitting at his desk in his home office, actually doing home office stuff for once. He’s leaned back in his chair eyes flitting between the many holoscreens up. Missives for Stark Industries mix with blueprints for the smallest, thinnest repulsor yet (WR 5.8) and different parts of the Iron Man suits that he’s pulled apart and tried reassembling to see what else could be incorporated into everyday objects. 

Occasionally, his eyes slide over a small charm necklace he’d been thinking about building for Tasha, which would either be able to short out everything within a three foot radius (there’s only so much you can do with a necklace, after all) or turn into acid and straight melt a bitch. He knows he could do it; knows he could give them both to her as a gift, but something’s stopping him. 

Through their long (much shorter than it feels) association with Steve Rogers, Natasha has always had more sway. Even in the very beginning, when the only one who had information and was spilling it was Tony, Natasha always had his ear. He’s not stupid in thinking that some of the more miraculous moments of progress in Steve’s behavior towards him and omegas in general have been because of Natasha.

“Friday.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did… nevermind.” he says. He wants to ask her if Natasha backed Steve on Wanda’s recruitment. He already knows the answer. Just like she was with him when the two of them thought it was a good idea to just dump all SHIELD’s files onto the internet, she is likely also behind Wanda’s joining the team. But he doesn’t really want to confirm that. His eyes slide back to the chat box that Pepper Potts currently inhabits.

He gets lost in the work around nine am and doesn’t come up again until six thirty. It isn’t as satisfying as lab work, but his duties don’t lie in the lab right now. They lay with Stark Industries. They lay with Sokovia and Johannesburg. They lay with the various governments currently pushing for the heads of the Avengers.

After nine hours in a chair, though, there isn’t much that can be done until tomorrow. Tony tips his head back and closes his eyes, that numbness that plagues him of late settling on top of him again. Office work is not as satisfying as a lab binge, but it’s better than this. He opens his eyes. If he goes to sleep now, he’ll wake up by ten and won’t be able to sleep all night.

If he goes to sleep at eleven, he stands a good chance of not waking up until five or six. That’s better, he thinks. Besides, the Vision is still just lurking around the tower, and the guy needs to eat. And get a hobby. After five minutes of telling himself that he HAS to get up and once he does he’ll move just fine, he succeeds in getting to his feet.

He adjusts his tie in a holographic mirror, then makes his way down to the communal floor. As always, the Vision is hovering just off the ground.

“Vis,” Tony says, and that red face (of course Jarvis looks like that) focuses on his.

“You ever cooked anything?” He’s careful in his wording. He doesn’t want to ask like Vision is behind, but he wants it to sound like it’s not a big deal if he is.

“No, Mr. Stark.”

“Come on. It’s time you learned to fry some shit,” he tries to make it sound at least a little happy, or satisfied. Vision may not have a presentation, but he can pick up on pheromones just fine. The android joins him in the kitchen, unsure of what he’s doing, while Tony pulls out a small pot and a small pan, turns on two burners, and digs around in the fridge and pantry until he comes up with butter, shrimp and rice.

“We’re gonna be eating shrimp and rice. Now,” he explains as he dumps half a bag of rice into the pot, “whenever you do rice, stick your finger in. If the water goes up to the first knuckle, you have enough.”

“Why is that, Mr. Stark?”

“I’m not sure. It’s just something I picked up from Rhodey’s mom. It’s always been the first knuckle. Doesn’t matter what hand. If you feel like measuring, it’s two cups of water for every one cup of rice. Go ahead and cover the pot. Set a timer for fifteen minutes. Any time you’re cooking rice, you don’t want to lift up the lid because it lets steam out. You’ll fuck up the rice doing that. You’ll also burn it if you cook too long, so pay attention to the clock.”

“Throw butter in the pan. Shrimp is easy to overcook, but the rule of thumb is stir regularly, and if it’s grey, you aren’t done yet.”

“Is this truly all there is to cooking?”

“Nah. That’s just the basic stuff. The fun part is this up here,” Tony flashes a grin and flips open the door to the spice cabinet.

“Now, make no mistake about it, I can’t cook, but I can fry the shit out of some shrimp. All you have to do is smell it, and if you think it would go good in the pan, sprinkle some on.” Tony watches with a small sense of satisfaction as the timer ticks down and Vision cautiously opens different bottles of spices and looks at their labels before either using them or putting them back.

“Little more on the lemon pepper,” Tony says. As the shrimp turn from grey to pink and the water in the rice pot starts to simmer, Tony thinks that this moment, this showing Vision something normal and something human, is worth it.

“What are you doing?” Tony jumps. He hadn’t realized that anyone had entered the room.

“Cooking.” Tony answers, sliding a cool gaze over to Wanda. She seems… accusatory. Definitely still wild.

“Vision is cooking. What are you doing?”

“Teaching.”

“You’re just standing there.”

“Vision is a fast learner,” Tony says, and turns his attention back to the pan. He doesn’t look to check, but he thinks the android might be a little proud of that last comment. Weirdly enough, Wanda chooses not to go on, but instead draws up to Vision’s other side to look in the pan.She reaches a hand out to the pot with the rice.

“Don’t touch that,” Says both Tony and Vision at the same time.

“You will release steam, which will disturb the cooking process,” Vision explains. He removes his hand when Wanda does. Tony doesn’t smirk at her. His scent doesn’t even change. But it’s a near thing.

“That’s good Vis. Go ahead and move it to a different burner to cool a bit. You want some tea?” Tony says, moving to go unearth the kettle. “Excuse me, Wanda.” After a couple more seconds than necessary, the Witch moves.

“Yes. There are still fifteen minutes left on the timer.”

“Yeah.”

“Can we fry something else?”

“Do you want to do more shrimp? There’s scallops, salmon, and tilapia in here. Plus chicken.”

“I would like to do the salmon.” Tony pulls out the bag and takes out three individually wrapped packages.

“Are you eating with us?” Wanda glances from Tony to Vision before she makes up her mind.

“No.” She fishes out a pop tart from the cabinet and walks off. Tony puts one of the fish back.

“Miss Maximoff dislikes you,” Vision says.

“Yes,” Tony answers, “she does.” They decide that Tony’s private floor is better, and beat a retreat to the elevators after they finish cooking. 

He and Vision like the seafood and the rice and Tony thinks he may have found his baby android a hobby. He’s smiling a little, and he doesn’t feel that numb right now. Not when Vision is right here, reminding him that JARVIS isn’t dead- he’s transcended, and sharing space with another AI and something brand new and beautifully formed as well.

“Miss Maximoff believes you are responsible for her parents death.”

“I am aware.”

“She has said she wishes for you to feel her pain, then to come and look at the choices she’s made.”

“I was not aware.” the Vision looks so conflicted, sitting there next to Tony, who was the only one who believed he could exist before he did, relaying what is shaping up to be his friend feels. A friend that would just as soon kill his creator as save him.

“What do you think, Vis?” They’re quiet for a while, the TV’s volume inexplicably lowering. Good FRIDAY, Tony thinks.

“I think the burden of the apology is on the transgressor… but that it is unclear who the transgressor is, in this case. I believe that… clarity may help in a way that conversation or association has not,” Vision finishes.

“You know, you’re smarter than you look.”

“I have the equivalent of three minds in one body. I ought to be smarter than I look.” Tony smiles a little more. He can hear his JARVIS, his baby, his constant companion for years, in Vision’s voice.

He thinks maybe it will be okay after all.


	6. Some Bridges Won't Be Built

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's attempt at reconciliation goes pear-shaped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: RAPE/NONCON AND VICTIM BLAMING. SKIP THE FLASHBACKAND READ THE SUMMARY AT THE END.

Wanda, upon request (four, in fact) is at the door to Tony Stark’s home office. She peers in like, at any moment, a missile will shoot out of the wall and blow her up. Tony doesn’t really blame her. 

“What do you want?” she says, hostile to the very end.

“To show you something. Come around the desk.” After a moment of hesitation, she does. Tony brings up the screens he had minimized.

“What is all this?”

“A map. Technically. I started it years ago, when SI was still a weapons manufacturing company. When I was still making those weapons. It was a way of keeping track of where SI weapons were going and how they were being used.” He can feel, without looking, the tenseness of Wanda Maximoff, can smell how her scent- something like space, like a star at the moment of its explosion- gets tighter, heavier, more difficult to breathe.

“When I realized what Obie was doing, I expanded it. The blue entries, like the first entries for here in Afghanistan, are legitimate entries, or places that were bombed with SI missiles that were legally bought.”

“Things you condoned.”

“Yes. The tricky part, though, is when you go to the red spots, like the second entry for Afghanistan, this one in South Africa, which was bombed with a Cassandra, version 7.5.6, serial number IO156543ERF. That specific missile, however, was supposedly a dud and was disposed of. This link here is a record of when and where and how it was wasted. We were still working on why some of the missiles weren’t exploding or were exploding too early,” Tony explains, pulling up specs and trials for different versions of the Cassandra.

“In fact, Cassandra, version 7.1-7.9.2 were all recalled and disposed of, which is where these red spots come in. When I signed off on the directive to dispose of that particular set of Cassandras, I was under the impression that they were all defective. In reality, the problem was found and fixed with version 7.5.3, leaving a good dose of perfectly functional missiles, completely unaccounted for.”

“Why are you showing me this?” Wanda says, and her voice is thick with tears.

“I thought clarity might help you. I’m going to give you this map. It’s your choice as to whether or not you open it up and look at it.” Tony turns to face her, waiting for her answer. After a moment, Wanda’s face seems to clear, and she turns back to him.

“I want you to show me.” Tony nods.

“Okay… August the 7th, 2002. If I’ve got my timeline right, Jericho, version 1.0.0 was in the pipeline,” Tony muses as he spins the map to locate Sokovia.

“Sokovia was bombed… four times, by a set of missiles that were made at a secret factory, entirely funded by Obadiah Stane and a quarter of the board loyal to him. That’s how most of his black market deals went down, by the way. He sold to the Sokovian government, unsanctioned, to a couple different Sokovian guerrilla forces that were in the running for power at the time, and to Hydra. 

“That last part is nothing new. He was selling to Hydra a lot, via different faces and places. I don’t think he even knew how deep in their pocket he was. Now, via a deep and thorough house cleaning I did after his death, plus information I got from SHIELD, your assumed location was bombed by one of two missiles, both of which were sold to a Hydra branch in Africa, then smuggled into a neighboring country, onto a ship, and eventually into Sokovia,” Tony finishes before turning to face Wanda. She’s just staring at the screen, at the records that show, right before her very eyes, that the story is bigger than what she wants to believe.

“Wanda? You okay?”

“You bring me here to show that it was not you who killed my parents. Who cost me my life, and you conveniently place the blame on an organization that no longer exists. One that I worked for,” and she says this so quietly that Tony gets very scared, right then. He doesn’t see how her hands are red, but he knows this was a giant mistake this-

 

- _ is the worst mistake of his life. He never should have trusted an alpha, for fuck’s sake,  Tony’s got his hand over his mouth, eyes squeezed shut, body wracked with sweat. His heat makes it all painful, all over much and not enough at the same time. Obadiah is behind him, a hand clamped bruisingly on his hip, balls deep in his ass. _

_ This is not what he wanted. He begged Obie to just take him to a commune. To leave him in the safety of other omegas. Omegas who would not hurt him. Who would curl up with him when he started to cry because his mother hasn’t been that dead for all that long and hurts so much that this heat is too dry for sex. _

_ Obie had driven them to his house overlooking the beach. Had pulled Tony out of the backseat and carried him ever so gently- ever so lovingly into the house. _

_ “‘Bie.. Obie not here.” But the alpha didn’t listen. He didn’t want to hear that Tony Stark didn’t want him. And now he’s here, face down, ass up, crying because it all hurts so much. His stomach is entirely knotted up and his head hurts so bad and Obie’s knot is catching too much. Tony knows he should have stopped moving by now, should stop right now because it hurts to keep shoving, but he doesn’t. Not until he physically can’t.  _

_ Then he tips them over onto their sides, and Tony knows better than to make a peep. That heat lasted three days and in the end Tony just wants to throw up and he just wants to die.  _

_ He gets online and does his research before he orders the sort of scent blockers with warnings a mile long but that are guaranteed to make it all STOP. Tony reads things like increased risk of heart attack and dizziness and fatigue and bleeding but all he understands is that these things are the price to keep him safe.  _

_ In the back of his mind, he knows it’s not Obie’s fault. Obie’s just an alpha. He probably didn’t have any more control over himself that Tony did and _ -

 

“Get out,” Tony hisses, low and dangerous. He smacks the flash drive into her hand and pushes her towards the door. “Get out and don’t come back.”

“Pity doesn’t vanish what you did, Stark. You claim you are not my enemy but you were in love with the man who you say was. You make excuses for his behavior, and even when he turns on you-”

“Fuck off.” he slams the door in her face, then sinks down against it, head on his knees breathing going rapidly out of control. He wishes Bruce or Clint were here. Wishes any omega but her were here because he can’t get the scent of Obadiah Stane out of his mind.

He finds himself listening to the dial tone.

“Good girl, FRIDAY,” he murmurs, but Rhodey’s phone doesn’t pick up and he still can’t think straight and he wishes he were just a little more numb; knows if he was it wouldn’t hurt so much. He can hear FRIDAY jabbering on, can hear her telling him information, but he can’t think straight because he’s seeing the fist fight he had with Obie when it was obvious he’d gone on scent blockers. He can remember each and every interview where someone tried to attack his usage of them.

He can remember the withdrawals while he was in Gulmira. The utter fear that dogged his every movement when he was freely and truly an omega again. He can’t break out of it. He can’t-

“Stark!” Steve.

“Go away!”

“We need to talk!”

“FRIDAY! Protocol lockdown, clearance only for levels 10 and up.” There are sounds of scuffling out in the hallway, and then nothing.

“Penthouse is clear boss. You never assigned the Vision a clearance level, you know.”

“If he tries, just let me know,” and the panic is still bursting against his mind, but in waves now, and not the steady, drowing pressure of an undertow. He can do this. It’s just for a little while, till Fury gets his shit together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING SUMMARY: After Wanda digs around in Tony's head, she forces him to relive the night he called obadiah to take him to a commune and was raped by him instead, leading to Tony taking his scent blocker pills.
> 
> He mentally excuses Obadiah's actions.


	7. Dead Horses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhodey arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here on out, update days across the board will be friday.

The War Machine armor touches down on the roof of Stark Tower, and FRIDAY runs the sequence to remove it. 

“Details, Fri,” Rhodey orders as he strides into the penthouse. It isn’t spotless, like it normally is. That’s a bad sign. For someone who regularly forgets everything, Tony is a weirdly neat person when it comes to his living quarters. The last time it looked this bad- bedding and trash and clothes and everything else on the floor, with only FRIDAY’s initiative to flush out the air to save him from the smell- Tony had relapsed for the last time and had been about neck deep in a panic-induced dry heat. 

“The Boss hasn’t left the penthouse since I called you following a near-altercation with the Scarlet Witch.” Seventeen days then. “From the video, it appears that Miss Maximoff exercised her powers, as her hands briefly flashed red, and then she mentioned pity not buying off enemies. After she left, I placed a call to you, since the Boss looked like he was going into a panic attack. Shortly after she reported a skewed version of the events to Mr. Rogers, who attempted to force access to the Boss’ home office. 

“At that point, Protocol: Lockdown was initiated and applied to all persons with clearance level nine and lower. The Vision has no established clearance level, and has tried multiple times to visit the Boss. He has been permitted entry twice. He appears to not understand what’s going on.”

“What are the clearance levels of each Avenger?”

“Steve Rogers: Level five. Natasha Romanov: Level five. Clint Barton: Level eight. Bruce Banner: Level ten. The Vision: Unestablished, but current pattern suggests Level nine or ten. Wanda Maximoff: Level two. James “Rhodey” Rhodes: Level Twelve. Anthony Stark: Level Thirteen.

“Mark Vision down for Level ten. What’s Pepper’s level?”

“Virginia “Pepper” Potts: Level nine.”

“Who else is high level enough to get through the lockdown?”

“No one, but the Boss’ phone contact “Big Black Dick” has clearance to place calls and text messages.”

“Okay… where is Tony now?” the penthouse, while messy, is empty.

“I believe he’s nesting in the smaller closet, sir. It looks like he’s about a day away from going into a second heat.” 

“Shit.” Rhodey digs around in his pocket until he finds the little packet of pills he brought with him and pops two dry.

“Is he in immediate danger?”

“No, sir.” Rhodey turns and heads to Tony’s private kitchen.

“Fri, order healthy food and comfort food.”

“Yes, sir.” What would Tony even eat, now? There’s nothing here. Rhodey sighs, because he knows exactly where there’s food and exactly why Tony might let his private kitchen run so hopelessly low on supplies.

He steps into the elevator and holds his shoulders back and his chin up, eyes straight ahead. He will not start a fight he will not start a fight he will not start a fight he will not start a figh-

“I do not see why I should apologize. He has killed hundreds, but is sent reeling over one alpha. He ought to see what death does to a person.” that must be Wanda, leaned up all self assured against a countertop that Tony paid for, eating a poptart specially ordered for her.

“Rhodey!” Steve calls. “I didn’t realize you’d arrived. Can I get you-”

“Save it, Rogers,” Rhodey says, going straight to the fridge and pulling out the orange juice and the blender and various fruits.

“I suppose some people do have sympathy for the devil,” Wanda notes.

“And I suppose some people really do enjoy his generosity but hate the man behind it.”

“He killed my parents.”

“Did he? Cause I know first hand that there’s more to it than that. But keep talking. I’m sure if you say enough we’ll figure out exactly what kind of crazy you are.”

“There’s no need for that, Rhodey,” Steve butts in, and Rhodey bets his ass that he’s got that Holier Than Thou expression on.

“There’s no need for a lot of shit but I guess I’m the only one who isn’t allowed to be fucking extra.” Rhodey tosses over his shoulder as he cuts up as much fruit as he can fit into a blender and adds protein and whatever else FRIDAY suggests.

“You are blinded by your friendship,” Wanda hisses at him, and Rhodey knows that, if Steve weren’t right there, she would hit him with another one of her lovely little dreams.

“And you are blind, period. This good, Fri?” The loud sound of the blender activating keeps the conversation stalled for a bit.

“Yes, sir.” Rhodey doesn’t even bother pouring it into a glass. He just steals a box of protein bars from the cabinet, a package of water bottles from the bottom of the pantry, and marches right back out.

“Rhodey, wait, we need to talk,” Steve says, following Rhodey into the elevator.

“FRIDAY, stop when we reach the highest floor Private Rogers is cleared for. And that’s Colonel Rhodes to you and your little witch friend.”

“She’s just a kid, Rh- Colonel Rhodes.”

“She’s twenty four. And if she’s old enough to decide to make a man relive some of the worst moments of his life, she’s old enough to pay the consequences.”

“He made the missiles that killed her parents.”

“And you brought about the death of innocents when you decided SHIELD had to go and jumped in with no backup. Widow killed hundreds before her time at SHIELD and she killed hundreds after it. I have killed in the War Machine armor and I killed before I had it. You have killed or heavily injured on most of your SHIELD missions and you continue to do that today. It’s amazing that the only person who deserves the shit like what Wanda did is also the only person who doesn’t fit in your neat little forties boxes.” They’ve hit floor seventy one, and the doors open, but Steve doesn’t move.

“It’s not about what I think. And it’s not like that even if it was. Besides, I never said he deserved it. I was talking to Wanda before you walked in.”

“Yeah, like she was fucking five- letting her dismiss her actions like she has no idea what she’s doing,” Rhodey says, glaring hard to make sure Steve knows what he thinks of his excusing her.

“She said she didn’t- that she was just angry and then it just happened.”

“Oh, that’s fucking rich. Get out. I have a friend to see to.”

“We’re not done yet.”

“You know what, Steve? I think we are. Now go before I get pissed and downgrade your clearance.”

“You can’t do that,” he spits back, and he’s still in the fucking elevator, and Tony’s smoothie is warming up.

“FRIDAY, downgrade Captain America, aka Steve Rogers, to Level two and activate security protocols if he does not vacate this floor within the next two minutes.”

“Change accepted.” The whole bottom half of Steve’s face twitches in irritation before he squeezes his mouth shut and steps out of the elevator.

“She didn’t do it on purpose,” he tries again.

“You’re beating a dead horse, private. Now scram.” The doors shut in Steve’s face as the elevators continue on up. It says something to Steve’s insistence of Wanda’s innocence that he didn’t even twitch at the “private Rogers” barb. 

 

…

 

“Tones? Tones, darlin’, you’re safe. I took those heat blockers- the really good kind you’re not supposed to use for longer than six months. And I made you a smoothie.” Rhodey has pulled off his uniform, so that he’s just wearing his pajamas he keeps over here.

The door to the small closet is shut, the linen closet on this floor has been ransacked along with the bed, and everything is quiet. He eases the door open. The smell of budding heat and anguish and fear and sadness all hit him full force. Rhodey frowns in sympathy. Tony peaks at him from underneath his blanket.  

“There’s my Tones.” Rhodey says as he slides into the nest and coaxes his long-time best friend to sit up. They don’t say anything. Not about how Rhodey smells a bit like the other avengers. Not about how anger is snapping and crackling across his skin, scent blockers or no. Not about how Tony’s got tear tracks on his tear tracks or how it looks like he hasn’t slept in the entire time he’s been locked in here, alone. Not about how it smells like he hasn’t showered, either.

“You aren’t supposed to be here.”

“I asked permission to leave. I cited possible danger to your person or psyche. I was right. Personally, I think they were trying to punish you by making me wait so long.”

“You know why I went on scent blockers in the first place?”

“No. You wouldn’t tell me.”

“My… remember when I was twenty two?”

“Yeah. Already graduated MIT, poster child for equality in the business world, already too self destructive for me to keep track of by myself.”

“Yeah. Well one time I went into heat early… couldn’t get myself to a compound and I was out of temporary scent blockers. I needed someone to take me but there wasn’t anyone I trusted who was around right then. I called Obie, thinking he would just drop me off or something and,” here, Tony’s voice breaks down, his head and body twisting away. Rhodey lets him do it.

“No, Tony.”

“The blockers I’d ordered were there when I got back to my apartment. After that, I didn’t feel like I could do another heat. Not when he was right there all the time, waiting for me to slip up. I get that he was an alpha and it wasn’t his fault but-”

“It was his fault. He knew damn well what you wanted to happen, and he did what he felt like doing anyway.”

“It never happened again.”

“Eight years, Tony. You did eight years on a brand of scent blockers that put you in the hospital for extreme overuse. By the time they forced you off of them, you were damn near dead. Having to look at you through the windows of a room no one else could enter while you withdrew was fucking terrible. If he weren’t more trouble alive than dead I would resurrect him just to kill him myself,” Rhodey swears.he puts his arm around Tony now, aware that he would probably accept this hug.

“Some days I just want to die.”

“I know, Tones. I know. Drink your smoothie. You aren’t done yet.” Tony does, and it gives him a brainfreeze. They giggle for a while, pretending like the feeling on the roof of his tongue is his biggest problem.

“I yelled at Captain America.”

“Why?” Tony says, closer to sleep now that he’s been fed and Rhodey’s there to fight his demons, even though he can’t even touch his demons right now.

“He said Wanda didn’t mean to, and he was acting like he had a right to be believed.”

“What happened then?” He mumbles into Rhodey’s neck. The colonel tugs a blanket over Tony’s legs.

“I downgraded his clearance from Level five to Level two.”

“Bad Bear.”

“I’d be infinitely bad for you. I’m calling him Private Rogers from here on out, since that what he actually is.” Tony giggles at the picture of his favorite, morally upstanding person behaving badly as his eyes slip closed again.

“I’ve really fucked things up, huh?” he mumbles, sliding down to properly lay in his nest of pillows and blankets.

“Nah, you’re just the one taking the blame.” But Tony doesn’t catch that last part, because he’s already asleep.

 

…

 

“Marcus Maize,” says the voice on the other end of the line.

“Tony’s got you in his phone as Big Black Dick.”

“I expect nothing less, Colonel Rhodes. I assume there’s new damage?”

“The Scarlet Witch has it out for Tony, and I want to know what you’re doing about it.”

“We’re working on moving the Avengers headquarters away from the Tower. When that’s done, we’ll work on the greater issues involving the team.” Rhodey feels some relief. At least he’s not the only one whose on Tony’s side in this.

“Issues like what?”

“Like chain of command. Like responsibility. Like whose job it is to do what and why those duties are being put off onto others. The Avengers are, as far as I’m concerned, a walking malfunction. Their MO needs a major overhaul or they’ll just wind up costing everyone more than they have to.”

“Alright.”

“Colonel Rhodes?”

“Yes?”

“Whenever he feels like talking, which is probably never, let him know I’m sorry, and I’m doing what I can with what I have.”

“Alright. It’s good to see you, Nick.”

“You too, War Machine.” The line goes dead, and Rhodey goes back to the closet, feeling a tiny bit better about the whole situation


	8. The Compound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shield isn't official enough to own the compound, per say, but they can sure as shit run it.

“The compound is owned by SI’s relief branch and is operated by independent contractors that also work to coordinate relief efforts,” the lady says. Tony thinks he likes her. She’s a short beta, all prim and proper in her suit and not at all phased by the dark glowering of Wanda or the intimidating stature and status of the other Avengers.

“So Tony owns it.”

“Ah… no. See, Dr. Stark is the head of the R&D branch of SI proper, which is the parent company of SI relief. I suppose if you wanted to, you could say Miss Potts, the CEO of SI proper, owns the compound, but that wouldn’t be overly truthful either, since SI: Relief is a different entity entirely, and that will be even more true when the new quarter starts.”

“Why do you keep saying SI proper?” Wanda asks, nose wrinkling in confusion.

“My apologies. You see, Howard Stark started the company Stark Industries. That company was inherited and eventually run by Obadiah Stane, then Anthony Stark, who revolutionized it, then passed on to his former secretary, Miss Virginia Potts. 

“When we say SI proper, we are referring to that original company. Currently, SI is an umbrella term that covers Stark Industries, Stark International, Stark Industries: Relief, and Stark International: Relief. All of those have their own separate CEOs and board members and what not, and they all specialize in different fields of expertise.” the woman finishes with a bright smile.

“So which SI Relief are we under?”

“Stark Industries: Relief. There’s been talk going around that the compound should be the responsibility of Stark International: Relief, but since no one’s got clearance to fight outside the country, it would be presumptuous to switch hands right now,” the woman (Tony didn’t catch her name) explains.

“Who are the independent contractors?” Widow asks, apparently satisfied with the explanation.

“I am, for one,” says another voice from behind them. Right now, they’re standing in a broad entry hallway, looking in on what looks like a giant foyer. At the new voice, everyone turns, putting Tony (uncomfortably, he might add) at the front of the group.

“Maria Hill,” Steve asks, face twisting in confusion.

“Yes.”

“How did you wind up running the compound?” and Tony can tell that shit is about to hit the fan, since Hill was grievously injured and lost several friends when SHIELD was brought (pushed) down.

“Well,” Tony interjects smoothly, “after all of SHIELD’s data got dumped onto the internet I wrote an algorithm to identify the Hydra agents that I used while salvaging what there was to be salvaged and starting SHIELD over from scratch. Maria is the new Director.”

“I’m not living in a place run by SHIELD,” Steve says, suspicion clear on his face. Tony cocks an eyebrow.

“Due to recent complications, you aren’t staying at the tower past the end of the month. I guess you have until then to find yourself other accommodations.”

“This is childish, Tony.”

“Actually, it’s practical. There’s been too much vitriol as of late, and I need some air. I have already stated my desire to take a step back from superheroing on this team, which, combined with SI relief in Sokovia and in Johannesburg, should help with the Avenger’s image. Furthermore, SI across the board is taking a hit. With me this close to death every other month, the stocks are having a hard time maintaining their value.”

“But you’re part of the team.”

“I am a consultant, and intend to play the role of a consultant from here on out.” Tony tries to keep his tone even and his scent from fluctuating, and he thinks he succeeds. 

“Tony, I don’t think this is good for the team. Can we sit down and talk about it?” Steve asks, and he looks so fucking earnest, so painfully sure that Tony just needs to be talked to, that Tony almost smacks that self-assuredness off his face.

“I do not believe that is true, Captain Rogers. Increased tension caused by a lack of space can induce negative results on the field, and Mr. Stark’s health has taken a hit,” Vision cuts in. It’s suddenly clear that there are lines in the sand. 

Steve and Wanda stand on one side, Tony and Vision on the other, Natasha in the middle, looking like she can’t decide who she supports. 

“The decisions have already been made,” says Hill. “While Doctor Stark will have accommodations here, since his continued work is anticipated in a different capacity than before, it has already been agreed that the best place for him is in the Tower, with more limited contact with the Avengers.”

“I suppose it will be okay, then, when he makes another Ultron,” Wanda asks. She’s entirely too sly with eyes that are wide and innocent.

“Ultron is besides the point, Wanda,” Vision says, and if his voice is a little colder, Tony pretends not to notice.

“Besides, it’ll keep the team more stable, and you’ll be able to travel. FRIDAY picked up that one sighting of Bucky from two days ago, remember? You’ll be able to go places yourself now,” Tony reminds the Captain. Steve is starting to be swayed, but then his eyes pick up how tired Tony really looks, and while he doesn’t think it’s as much Wanda’s fault as Tony says it is, there’s no denying the damage done.

“I think we should try it out,” he says, finally, and that seems to end the debate.

“Good. Now we can get on with the business of settling you all in,” Hill takes control of the conversation with that sentence, and draws abreast of the young woman who had been giving them the tour. Vision stays close to Tony’s side the whole time, and it helps the inventor not to feel so numb.

As he’s getting in his car to leave, the android stops him.

“Mr. Stark.”

“Yeah, Vis.”

“I understand your need for space, given recent events, but would… would I be able to visit?” There’s a moment where it’s so quiet between them that it’s almost like a black hole, swallowing all the sound there is to swallow. He had honestly thought the android wouldn’t care to see him outside of official business. It makes him feel a little better about leaving his unofficial duties to those who should have been shouldering them.

“Yeah, Vision. You need me, or want to talk to me, you can come over to the tower. It was never you I had a problem with.” He offers an arm, and Vision steps into it, folding his creator into a hug.

“I will miss you. And I will not forget who originally let me fry something.”

“Yeah. I won’t forget that either. That was the best time I’ve had in awhile.”

 

…

 

Tony Stark only makes it as far as the communal floor before he’s collapsing on his knees in the living room. He sits on his feet and stares at nothing, this hole in his chest getting giant, swallowing everything. It feels worse than it did when he had palladium poisoning. It feels worse than it did when Pepper left. This is the worst it’s ever felt, this hole.

Distantly, he remembers that Primes are especially prone to the negative effects of pack separation. No matter how toxic, no matter how bad that pack was, Tony is biologically wired to want them by his side. It’s going to be hell, now that he’s moved them away.

“Stark,” a soft, calm voice says. Dimly, he can feel himself being picked up and settled into the couch he once was drawn to. It feels like ages since Natasha pulled his feet into her lap. He doesn’t really see much, aside from vague shapes, and he doesn’t register that time has passed at all until his hand is being wrapped around a warm mug.

He sniffs. Lemon something.

Somehow, he brings himself to drink until it’s gone, then drink again. After that, he realizes that the lavender is not just from the cup.

“You’re supposed to be dead.”

“So’s Nick, and you’ve got him in your phone as Big Black Dick.”

“Yeah but I knew Nicky wasn’t gonna die over some dumb shit like that. You got… you got shot by Loki and…” he can’t remember.

“Tahiti, Stark. It’s a magical place,” Coulson says as he tugs Tony to the side a bit until the omega is resting against him, breathing in the smell of his clothes. He closes his eyes.

“Why do I always get hugs by the most questionable of alphas?”

“We want you to be okay. And we’re sorry. For putting you in the position to have all this happen to you.”

“Oh.”

“I’m glad you called. We’d been worried that you would be too held by pack dynamics to separate yourself.”

“I didn’t sync with them. Well, I synced with Bruce and Clint, but they’re gone. There wasn’t…” Tony can’t finish his thoughts. All he does is push closer to Coulson. The superspy lets him.

“It’s alright, Stark. I’ve been ordered to stay with you until you’re stabilized. I have various omegas ready and willing, should I need to give them a call, and no one is getting into the Tower and to you without my express permission.”

“That’s… good. FRIDAY.”

“Yeah, Boss.” 

“Upgrade Agent Phil Coulson to level nine.”

“Updated, Boss.” They’re quiet for a bit. Tony gets down a third cup of tea (Bruce’s tea that he’d never been able to bring himself to throw away) and an apple before he can bring himself to ask.

“What’s going to happen now?”

“For now? Nothing. Captain Rogers is expected to grow mildly rebellious in the coming weeks, and we’ve got something in the pipeline that should address the overarching issues the Avengers have. It’s not finished, not even close, but we intend to bring you in on it as soon as possible. Right now though, you just need to rest. Call Pepper. Coordinate stuff for SI,” Coulson advises, and Tony can’t deny him shit when he’s the only person he knows who isn’t gone, busy, or dangerous to him at the moment.

“I want to stop being numb,” he mumbles as Coulson later leads him by the hand to his private elevator that goes to the penthouse.

“Yeah, Stark. Tell me about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Constructive Criticism are appreciated.  
> Update day is Friday.  
> My tumblr: A Somewhat Ambiguous (https://asomewhatambiguous.tumblr.com)  
> My Facebook: Grace Augustine (https://www.facebook.com/grace.augustine.927980?ref=bookmarks)  
> My Twitter: GraceAugustin19 (https://twitter.com/GraceAugustin19)
> 
> Special Announcement 6.1.2018  
> I am setting up an Etsy shop! As soon as I get the final edits to my drawings done, you will be able to buy them, including the picture of Hela from the “Enough” series!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Constructive Criticism are always appreciated.


End file.
